


Meeting Me, Meeting You

by through_shadows_falling



Series: Supernatural Ficlets [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cute, Dean in a Wheelchair, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Online Friendship, Veteran Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3911869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean was still unsure about dating. </p><p>It wasn’t that he was ashamed - it was just that, he knew, realistically, if he put it out there that he was in a chair, he wouldn’t get any bites. Most people were looking for something easier, and in their minds, wheelchairs just didn’t equate to ‘easy.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meeting Me, Meeting You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr anon who requested an Online Meeting AU.

“I  _swear to god_  this is all your fault.”

Sam looked up from the law book he was reading. “What did  _I_  do?”

Dean glared at him from across the room. He was sitting in his wheelchair, his computer open on his lap. He pointed at Sam accusingly.

“You’re the one who started it! Now every friggin’ person on the planet is getting engaged or married or popping out babies! Seriously, what the hell? You and Jess couldn’t have waited or something?”

“Nope,” Sam said, and returned his eyes to the page. 

“Well, maybe I’ll go to…” Dean paused to scan his Facebook. “Sarah’s wedding instead of yours. It’s on the same freakin’ day.”

“Okay. Guess I’ll have to find a new best man then.”

Dean scowled. “Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam returned automatically. He sighed and finally looked over at his brother. “Is there a reason you’re taking out your sexual frustrations on me?”

“Sexual frustrations?” Dean sputtered. “This isn’t about sex–” He cut off at the triumphant smirk on Sam’s face. “You shut up!”

Sam’s expression softened. “Hey, if you wanna go on dates, go on dates. You’ve got to put yourself out there.”

“Right. Cuz it’s just  _that easy_  huh?”

“I told you to try OkCupid or something. It’s free, it’s online. No pressure.”

Dean snorted, but the idea planted itself in his head. Sam went back to his law school homework, and Dean indignantly wheeled to the garage. 

He’d never drive his Baby again - his dad’s prized ‘67 Impala - but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still take care of her. Dean polished everything within his reach until she shone. 

It was weird. So many years had passed since the accident that he didn’t really feel sad about it anymore. At first, yeah, he’d been severely depressed, but then he’d realized that even though things were different, he could still live his life. 

The only thing he was still unsure about was dating. To say he’d been in a slump was an understatement. It wasn’t that he was ashamed - it was just that, he knew, realistically, if he put it out there that he was in a chair, he wouldn’t get any bites. Most people were looking for something easier, and in their minds, wheelchairs just didn’t equate to ‘easy.’

Still, Sam’s idea wiggled back into his head later that night. Dean had swung himself into bed and was on his laptop again. What if he did make a profile? It couldn’t hurt. Then he might have a date to all his friends’ weddings and parties and whatever other crap they had, and it’d be his turn to rub it in on Facebook.

Creating his profile took a long time. Dean wanted to be honest, but he didn’t want to scare anyone off. He said he was looking for boys and girls, and mentioned that he was wheelchair-bound  under the ‘first things people notice about me’ section.

When he got to the part about the ‘most private thing he’d be willing to admit,’ he paused. Finally, he typed,  _I’m a big fan of cowboy boots, especially when worn by sexy doctors ;p_

Hey, if people didn’t get that he liked Dr. Sexy, MD, then they didn’t deserve to go out with him, right? 

With a final note that he was a pretty chill guy, and that he’d be open to any kind of date, Dean finished his profile and moved on to answering questions. A hundred, to be exact, as the site said the more he answered, the better they’d be able to pair him with a good match. 

The process ended when Dean rated five people - it so happened to be four women and one man. They all seemed nice enough, but the ball was in their court. He’d chosen a profile pic that showed off part of his wheelchair, so if they weren’t ready for it, well, then that was that. 

Dean went to bed mentally exhausted, but he couldn’t help but feel a small thrill of excitement. Was it too much to hope that someone around here would want to date someone like him, even if it was only a quick fling?

As it turned out, his hope wasn’t for nothing. He had a message the next morning from a guy with the screen name  _AngelofThursday_. What a name.

 **I like your wheels** , was all it said. Dean clicked on the guy’s picture and grinned. Hel-lo good-looking. Hot damn. 

He was white, with blue eyes and tousled brown hair. In his profile picture, he squinted grumpily at the camera, which Dean thought was rather cute. According to his profile, he was a few years older than Dean, and was an Iraq veteran with…

“No way,” Dean breathed. The guy had a prosthetic arm and leg. 

What were the odds?

 **Hey, bionic man** , Dean wrote back. Down at the bottom of the screen, a green dot appeared that signified that  _AngelofThursday_ was online right now, and they could instant chat if they wanted.

Before Dean could debate on whether to open the window, the other guy made his move first. 

**_Good morning. Now tell me - is your screen name referring to the animal impala, or the car?_ **

**_Morning. The car. It was my dad’s. What’s ur name about?_ **

**_My name. It’s Castiel. In biblical lore, Castiel was the angel of Thursday._ **

**_Lemme guess - Catholic school?_ **

**_You have no idea._ **

They went back and forth with surface-level info about each other. Castiel - or Cas - taught at the community college, and like Dean, he also lived in an apartment with his brother. 

Before Dean knew it, an hour had passed and his stomach rumbled with hunger. He said goodbye to Cas with a promise to chat again soon. 

Soon, being later that day. And then that night. 

This isn’t what usually happened, right? People didn’t usually hit it offthis quickly and this strongly. Yet Dean really liked chatting with Cas. He got the sense that they were cut from the same cloth - they just  _got_  one another. 

Despite that, neither of them suggested going on an actual date. 

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Two months went by with daily communication from Cas. They’d long since given their cell phone numbers, so they texted rather than message each other on OkCupid. 

In fact, Dean hadn’t logged in to his profile for a while. He didn’t feel the need. He’d made a connection with someone, and even though they weren’t dating, Dean realized he didn’t _need_  to date to feel better. Having Cas as a friend was more than he could’ve hoped for.  

Sam pestered him more than once about what was going on with the guy. He’d seen the way Dean smiled whenever he read Cas’s texts, and okay, Dean  _wouldn’t mind_  going out with Cas, per se, but their current arrangement was good, too. They’d even Skyped a few times, so it wasn’t like they’d never seen each other’s faces. 

It just seemed that meeting in person was a big step. Dean didn’t know why, but whenever he hinted at it, Cas changed the subject. So, after a while, Dean stopped bringing it up. He had a friend, a good friend, a  _best_  friend. He didn’t need more. 

Then one day, Sam brought Dean grocery shopping. They split up to cover more ground and get it done faster, since neither of them liked food shopping. Dean steered his power chair down the can aisle. His brother wanted some canned vegetables, but of course, the stupid peas were above his reach. 

Dean bit his lip and shifted in his chair. He tried to lift himself higher, but his fingertips only grazed the metal. 

“Aw, damn it,” he said. Suddenly, a presence appeared behind him, along with an arm that gripped the can of peas and passed it to him. 

“Oh, thanks,” Dean said, his face flushed. 

“You’re welco-” the stranger started, but then they both realized who the other was. 

“Cas?” Dean said in shock. 

It was definitely him. He looked like his picture, only reality was much, much better, even if he wasn’t wearing his right arm. 

“Dean,” Cas said, in the gravelly voice Dean had come to know and love. Their eyes roved over each other. 

“What’re the odds, man?” Dean said, unable to keep the smile off his face. “You look good,” he added after a moment, his voice softer. 

“You do, too.” 

Dean’s smile widened. “Um, excuse me, you better not have said that with  _surprise_  in your voice.”

Cas finally grinned at that, and Dean loved the way it lit up his eyes. 

“My apologies, Dean. You look smokin’.”

“Damn straight.”

They both laughed. They stopped only when Cas caught the tail-end of a look from a customer farther down the aisle. He hunched over, his posture uncomfortable, as he strove to hide the side of his body missing an arm and leg.

“Hey,” Dean said gently. “Don’t worry about them.”

Cas closed his eyes and shook his head. “I know, I know. I just… I don’t get out much. Gabriel had to bribe me.”

“Oh, well if I knew all it’d take was some bribes then…” Dean’s joke fell flat at the look on Cas’s face. “Sorry.”

“No,  _I’m_  sorry. You’ve been so good…” They locked eyes. Cas inhaled a shaky breath. “I’m still adjusting. I didn’t know if…”

“It’s okay, Cas. I get it, I do. You don’t need to apologize.”

They both turned when Sam trotted down the aisle.

“Dean, what’s taking so long…wait, Cas?” 

Sam had met Cas on Skype, but Dean felt a gush of warmth that they were all finally seeing each other in person. 

“You’re very tall,” Cas said, and Sam grinned. 

“I get that a lot.”

“Told ya he was a freak,” Dean said, and Sam swatted him on the arm. 

“Hey, don’t be a dick.”

“I’ll be a dick if I damn well want to.”

“Ooh count me in!” sang a voice as a smaller man slid into the scene. From his wily smile and boyish features, Dean recognized him as Cas’s brother Gabriel. He’d seen only pictures and heard Cas’s descriptions, but they matched him to a T. 

“This must be the famous Dean-o I’ve heard so much about!”

They chatted some more until Cas’s discomfort grew to an obvious level. By then, nothing could calm him.

“I’m sorry,” Cas apologized for the millionth time as he let Gabriel lead him away. 

“I’ll call you!” Dean said to his retreating form.  

Which he did. And he kept calling, no matter how much Cas’s self-esteem dipped and he insisted that Dean didn’t need to make the effort. Dean just told him to shut up, and that he’d wait until Cas was ready. 

Which didn’t take too long, actually. A few weeks later, Dean visited Cas at his house. First once a week, then twice, then whenever possible. Dean had hand controls in his car, so he could drive himself over at any time. He took advantage of it until finally, finally, Cas returned the gesture (though Gabriel had to drive him).

It took time, but eventually, Cas learned how to be in public again without having to be bribed.  

Then, it was his turn to bribe Dean.

With a pair of cowboy boots and a doctor’s coat.


End file.
